


Hideaway

by racheltuckerrr



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheltuckerrr/pseuds/racheltuckerrr
Summary: Kara goes to take drawing lessons and gets more than she bargained for.OR we all know and love the artist!Kara trope so now here's my spin on it with a little twist, if you will.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a love letter to my own art school experience and a teacher who is a lot like Cat in many ways.  
> Title is not necessarily related, but I was listening to Kiesza and I didn't have one already in mind when I realized it's actually not that big of a stretch from the story, so here we are.

When Alex gets her a three month subscription for weekly art classes at a closeby art school that she passes every day on her way to her mediocre job that barely pays the rent, subtly peeking in the downstairs window, but never lingering enough to really see anything, Kara thinks it’s too much, but her heart sings and they both know it.

Expressing herself in an artistic way has always been something very dear to Kara, despite never having tried her hand at any sort of professional education in the arts, so to say she’s enthusiastic about this opportunity to learn a thing or two is understating it hugely. Her sister has taken care of arranging all the details for her, so all Kara has to do is show up and enjoy herself and she can’t wait.

Now though, that she’s actually sitting here in a room filled with people she doesn’t know, who obviously have a set routine and a formed community, she suddenly feels out of place. Not to mention that the teacher is running late, and that supposedly never happens and Kara thinks that maybe all of this is a subtle cosmic sign and she should probably just leave before she makes a fool of herself.

But then, just before she could make up her mind or make her premature escape, she hears the outside door being shut a little too loudly and sees the rest of the room settle, almost like an unspoken agreement that the time for chitchat is over, and she wonders what the person who just came through the door did to earn that level of respect.

She doesn’t have to wonder about the _who_ for long, because before she knows it a small blond woman breezes into the room in a flurry of winter clothes pulling the gloves off her hands and stuffing them into her coat pockets, never stopping, all business despite being almost ten minutes late to her own class, and Kara feels her heartbeat pick up a little for no apparent reason.

“Just because my car chose this particular Monday morning to break down, doesn’t mean you don’t have work to do, let me see those pencils moving!”

The woman, whose name Kara remembers from her subscription as Catherine J. Grant, stalks past Kara without acknowledging her, adjusts the lamp above the patiently waiting model, making sure she’s comfortable, before dropping her purse on an empty chair in the corner and Kara feels dizzy just looking at her move around like she’s a competitive dancer.

When Kara seems to be the only one not immediately following her orders, the blonde woman does look at her, hazel eyes taking her in for the first time. Her gaze lingers for a moment more than appropriate but not enough to be uncomfortable and Kara hears a quiet but firm “Chop, chop” before the woman is out the door again, presumably to put her coat on the rack outside.

Kara gets to work on her drawing, shoulders sagging as she lets her senses take in the creative ambiance, the soft music filtering in from the background and she curses her own anxiety for almost giving up before she experienced any of this.

She’s so relaxed she doesn’t notice that half an hour has flown by when she notices someone standing behind her, watching her. She turns slightly and sees the petite blond woman standing there, one hand on her hip, the other holding a cup of coffee, head cocked to the side and Kara realises she’s not actually looking at _her_. Suddenly, she feels like a kid again, and she desperately wants this woman’s approval and she doesn’t even know why. Which is ridiculous, because she’s, well technically _Alex_ is, the one who paid for this class, so she shouldn’t be this intimidated.

“Hm."

“ _Hm_?” Kara can’t help but counter the non-committal hum.

“And you are?” the blonde inquires, without committing herself to an answer.

“Kara,” she offers without much ceremony. “Is that like a good ‘hm’ or a bad ‘hm’?” she must sound nervous, because the woman takes pity on her and rewards her with a half smirk, and somehow it feels more satisfying than it should to elicit even that mild of a response from her.

“Well, _Kara_ , the proportion is a bit off, here and there, but you’re on the right track. Here,” she says, taking the pencil from Kara’s hand without asking and leaning _really_ close over her shoulder to reach the canvas as she demonstrates her point.

“You need to adjust this line, and then…” she trails off, showing Kara what she means instead. They’re so close to each other that Kara can feel blond curls tickling the back of her neck, can smell the floral perfume invading her senses and it’s almost too easy to imagine that she’s standing in the middle of a rose garden.

“ _There_. That’s better,” she hears, as her pencil is tucked behind her ear and the faint smell of roses starts fading away. “You’re gonna get the hang of this, trust me,” the older woman stands, one hand on her hip, the other patting Kara’s shoulder lightly.

“And when you do, drawing will become a _whole other_ experience, believe me. There’s nothing quite like it,” she confides, eyes glinting, and Kara almost believes her.

But looking at the curve of those narrow hips in front of her, she would be hard-pressed to accept that there aren’t at least a few other activities with the potential to be just as rewarding, if not even more so.

“Thank you, Miss-“

“Call me Cat,” she says easily, and then goes onto the next person like this is what she does every day, and it probably is.

Kara thinks briefly about flying to Italy to get Alex her favourite bottle of red wine as a thank you, before focusing on her drawing once again, mindful of the pointers she was just given.

She’s not quite clear on the reason _why_ , but it suddenly seems very important that she show Cat what she’s capable of. When the art mistress does come around again to inspect her work, Kara finds herself holding her breath, until she receives a nod and a slow but beautiful smile that gives a spring to her steps when she walks all the way home that afternoon.

 

* * *

  

The rest of the week could go by a lot faster, the weather could be a few degrees nicer and her obnoxious jerk-guy of a boss who makes her fetch lattes all day instead of letting her do actual journalistic work could, _quite frankly_ , go to hell, but for once, Kara doesn’t feel the need to call her sister to complain and vent about her life until they both fall asleep on their respective couches.

No, this week even work isn’t enough to get her down, not when she has next Monday to look forward to, and then the one after that and the one after that. She makes an honest to god effort to smile at the person yelling at her for taking up the copy machine for too long again and goes home every day with that same spring in her step, walking past the rustic-looking old building in her path with a wistful sigh.

And then, at night, she practices the new technique she’s learned for three hours straight, arranging the fruit in her kitchen into impromptu compositions and drawing enough sketches to cover the floor of her living room with them. She thinks of the way those hazel eyes would shine in approval and she feels more accomplished than she has in a long time.

 

* * *

 

She is a lot more confident as she walks into the cozy art studio and goes to find her seat from last week, dropping her bag down next to her and smiling politely at a few familiar faces. She easily spots the one she’s most eager to see, as Cat goes around handing out thin pieces of charcoal for everyone to draw with.

Kara feels a small surge of nervous excitement in her belly at the prospect of trying her hand at something new, wondering if she will be any good, but it fades quickly when her eyes meet Cat’s from across the room and the older woman rewards her with a small smile. She looks softer somehow, perfect curls falling over her face like a halo, the image especially striking under the artificial studio lights.

She shakes her head and gets to work, experimenting with the new tool and commanding it to the best of her ability, and finds she’s quite happy with the result. The profile of the young boy in front of her is not exactly detailed, but Cat told them that’s not the point of this so called _instrument_ , as she put it.

Kara narrows her eyes as she squints again, trying to focus her attention on the lights and the shadows, occasionally using her finger to smudge the charcoal where she deems it appropriate. She’s so caught up in her work that she’s startled when a blonde head appears over her shoulder, already leaning in close to Kara’s own as she is used to Cat doing by now. That in itself doesn’t make the proximity any less intoxicating though.

“Mm. Not bad, _Kiera_ ” Cat breathes, smile smug at feeling Kara shiver. “Not bad at all.”

“It’s um…K-Kara,” she stutters, inwardly cursing her infinite lack of game.

Cat’s answering smile is indulgent at best and Kara wonders if she’s being played. Before she could find the courage to ask about it though, Cat’s breath is caressing her ear again and suddenly she couldn’t care less.

“Tell me, _Kara_ ” she whispers in a low, conspirational voice, “is our newest model handsome or w _hat_?”

Whatever Kara was expecting, this was not it, and the blush spreading rapidly from her neck was plenty indication, but hearing Cat’s rich laughter bubble up from her throat is well worth the predictable embarrassment.

“Is he…um…”

“My son,” Cat said proudly, a beautiful smile stretching across her face, crinkling her eyes at the corners. Kara wanted to say something smart, but before she could think of anything Cat was already in motion, as was her habit.

“Okay everyone, take five,” she clapped her hands, instantly commanding the attention of the room. “C’mon Carter, let’s get you something to drink.”

They walked into the kitchen hand in hand, and now that Kara saw them side by side, it was easy to spot the similarities. The curly hair, the tiny frame, the prominent cheekbones. But most importantly, Kara mused, looking at the tender exchange between mother and son, most importantly it was in the way they both held themselves up, proudly and uncompromisingly, like they’ve already proved to the world that they deserve to be in it. Kara could only guess why a boy of twelve should already have that kind of resistance, but then, having a mother like Cat, it was probably already in his genes before he was born.

Kara sighed, pushing her thoughts about the dynamic duo and her pathetic longing to find out more about them temporarily to the side, in favour of returning to her drawing. Class wasn’t over yet and she still had so much to learn. Strictly about art, _of course_.

 

* * *

 

“So how are those art classes going, sis?”

“Great! My teacher, Cat, she’s really great, I feel like there’s a lot I can learn from her.”

“I knew you’d like her,” Alex sounds so smug Kara can just about see the smirk on her face even over the phone.

“Really, how?” she asks, as she rummages through her old paint collection, trying to find something that still works so she can spare the price of having to buy a new one for next week. “Oh and did you know that she actually _runs_ the school?”

“’Course. I looked her up thoroughly. She started the whole thing going herself, from scratch, which is pretty impressive considering how well they’re doing now, the number of teachers and students they have. She’s kind of a big shot, ya know,” Alex shares smugly. “Definitely somewhat of a role model in those artsy circles you so admire.”

Kara finds the long-forgotten painting kit she was looking for and almost drops her phone in her glee, but luckily manages to prevent the disaster in time.

“She’s so amazing, Alex,” she gushes, and even if she knows she should tone down the enthusiasm a little, she can’t stop herself. “One time she literally stood in front of me, her back to the model and she still managed to correct my drawing with a perfect line while doing it upside-down and from a weird angle. I don’t know how she does it, it’s like _magic_.”

“Sounds like you might have a bit of a hero crush there, Kara.” This time she does drop what she’s holding, which happens to be a tiny pot of paint in a metal container, which makes an awful clutter and there’s no way Alex didn’t hear _that_. She’s so busted.

“I- what?” she tries anyway. “N-no.” Nervous giggle. “I don’t…h-have a… _crush_.” _Very convincing, Kara_. “No. That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, _right_.”

“Shut up.”

Kara hangs up on her sister before she digs herself any deeper than she already has. And besides, it’s easier to convince herself that she really doesn’t have a crush without Alex’s rich laughter ringing in her ears, mocking her.

 

* * *

 

She _does_ though. She does have a crush, she admits to herself in the silence of her bedroom, clutching a small pillow to her chest. It’s so painfully obvious that even Kara can’t deny it, no matter how much she wants to do just that.

Because every time she catches a whiff of Cat’s flowery perfume, she’s already steeling herself for the delicious agony that is sure to follow when Cat inevitably reaches her and leans over to inspect her work, and every time, Kara finds herself leaning in just a little bit herself, to be that tiny bit closer to the older blonde, until she feels the skin of Cat’s neck touching her nose, and the press of small breasts against her side when Cat corrects something over Kara’s shoulder. Whenever that happens Kara has to hold her breath so she doesn’t faint on the spot. Which kind of defeats the purpose, really.

And Kara would laugh at herself if she wasn’t already in way too deep. Because it’s only the third week. _Three lessons_. A little over ten hours in Cat’s company, and Kara is _so_ doomed. And it shows.

Like today, when she was supposed to be concentrating on the lines and shapes that make up the old woman’s face who was their model for the day, but all Kara could focus on was the pair of black leather pants Cat decided to put on that morning, that fit her in all the right places, showing off muscles and curves that should be illegal, if only to save the poor unfortunate souls like Kara, from potential, or better yet, _certain_ embarrassment.

With a distraction like that, Kara could forgive herself easily when the hastily done painting in front of her was not deemed her best work yet. She did however, feel her heartrate spike when Cat effortlessly fit herself into the miniscule space behind Kara on the bench, resting her chin easily on a muscular shoulder and it was all Kara could do to feign nonchalance as Cat pointed out how she could salvage the disaster of a painting in front of them.

It was admirable of her to try, really, but after she referred to Kara as _darling_ , not even a death threat would be enough to make her recall a single word of what was being said to her. All she remembers is the pressure of that prominent jaw on her flesh as Cat spoke to her quietly, and the flowery scent in her nostrils that followed her all the way home as she fell into her bed with an exhausted sigh and a myriad of unnamed emotions swirling dangerously close to the surface.

Honestly, it’s a miracle she got through the _day_.

 

* * *

 

It’s an especially busy Wednesday morning at the office, and Kara can already tell this is going to be one of those days that she’s going to want to end in her favourite coffee shop, with a takeaway vanilla frappe and her usual cinnamon buns.

It takes a ridiculous number of coffee runs, some unavoidable but completely unnecessary petty yelling to satisfy her boss’ male ego, and a cup of green tea from the employee’s kitchen to fight off an ever growing headache until she can finally execute that plan, but when Kara enters the little place on the corner, she instantly feels a calm settle over her that’s been eluding her for longer than she cares to admit.

She just gave her order to a smiling barista when she hears it.

“ _Kara_.”

Cat is sitting in the corner just right of the counter, hidden from the view of anyone entering the shop, which is exactly why Kara also favours that spot on most days. She’s smiling as she waves her over, and Kara can easily recognise the curly haired boy from the other week, munching on a bowl of ice cream of his own next to her.

“Come here darling, help us settle a very important debate,” Cat offers and there is no possible version of this scenario where Kara would say no to her, especially not when she’s smiling more unreservedly than she’s ever seen her.

She takes the only free chair at the table, effectively putting herself between mother and son and their playful domestic banter.

“Carter, this is Kara” Cat introduces her to her son, eyes glinting mischievously. “You may remember her from class last week.”

“Hi,” he says shyly, before he seems to remember something and turns to his mom indignantly.

“But that’s cheating, Mom!” he whines and Kara wonders what she’s missing here. “She’s obviously biased.”

“Mm, is that right,” Cat hums, eyes laughing.

“I’m sorry what…what is this debate about?” Kara can’t help but ask, her curiosity overriding everything else for the moment.

“Ah, well” Cat drawls slowly. “It’s not exactly a debate, more of a choice really… One of science,” she says, pointing to Carter, “versus art,” she finishes, indicating herself.

Oh boy.

“Well what would you choose, Kara?” the challenge in her voice is unmistakable, and Kara can clearly see the trap she just willingly walked into. Well alright then, she’ll just have to rise to the occasion.

“The way I see it,” she starts, not quite sure how to go about this yet, “it can’t possibly be an either-or kind of question.”

Two pairs of curious, intelligent eyes encourage her to continue.

“Science is important, but it’s meaningless without art and culture to translate it into experience, and fill the equations with real meaning. And vice versa, art needs science to be credible in the eyes of those who don’t understand it.”

Kara nods, satisfied with her answer, before looking up into Cat’s shining eyes.

“Well done, Kara” she says with something akin to wonder and Kara beams with pride at having achieved that by simply stating her honest opinion.

It’s then that the barista calls her name with a to-go order and she stands up apologetically, wishing them both a lovely afternoon, sending Cat a small smile and an “until next week” over her shoulder.

Her stomach flips at Cat’s “See you, darling” in response.

 

* * *

 

Next Monday, when Kara walks into the now familiar old building, she is greeted by a sight that shouldn’t surprise her after everything she knows about Cat, but somehow it still does. The petite blonde woman is standing on a chair in the middle of the small anteroom, changing a lightbulb with the practised ease of someone who does that for a living, instead of teaching art techniques to the creatively minded youth and Kara wonders if there is any limit to her talents.

“Are you doing _everything_ around here?” she asks boldly, trying not to squint into hazel eyes as Cat nonchalantly uses her shoulder to get down to the floor, then smooths her hands casually over Kara’s biceps like it’s nothing, and Kara has to fight to control the tingles running down her arms.

“Someone has to be the man and step up when it’s needed” Cat shrugs, like she’s talking about the weather. “I’m handy with a toolkit,” she says as she winks, actually _winks_ at Kara and it’s all she can do to find herself a drawing board while shaking her head to clear it of all the inappropriate thoughts that just flooded her mind.

She honestly doesn’t know how she keeps getting herself into these situations with Cat, but it’s becoming something of a pattern and Kara doesn’t know whether she should be annoyed or delighted. When she catches Cat’s eyes discreetly checking her out in a way that no one else would notice, she decides to go with the latter.

And she must be getting good at working while she’s distracted because she’s more satisfied with what she’s created than she remembers being in a long time, and her ego would’ve been stroked even without Cat’s heartfelt praise. Not that Kara minds _that_ , of course. Never.

It’s a testament to how lightheaded she feels that day that she doesn’t notice her phone missing all the way home, as she skips on the pavement, absent-mindedly humming to herself. When she does notice, she curses quietly under her breath, but wastes no time in turning, making her way back quickly, hoping that someone is still there in the school, that they hadn’t already closed for the day.

As luck would have it someone _is_ there, alone in the painting room, with a vase of strikingly blue flowers placed strategically under the artificial lightning, pencil behind one ear and paint smudges on her face. Kara forgets all about why she came back and takes a moment to admire the rare sight in front of her, never having seen Cat in this particular role before, taking advantage of the fact that the woman is currently too focused on the half-painted canvas in front of her to notice the intruder who just unknowingly disturbed her peace.

Kara notices she’s changed too, discarded her immaculate attire for an oversized, baggy painting t-shirt, the kind that Kara uses at home when she feels creativity strike, and a pair of loose-fitting jeans with a few rips in the seams here and there. Her hair is different too, put up in a careless bun with some loose curls peeking out rebelliously, exposing Cat’s elegant neck and Kara has to clear her throat to keep it together.

Cat gives no sign of acknowledgement, though she’s clearly heard her and Kara shifts her weight from one foot to the other nervously, suddenly wondering if she’s just making this up.

“It’s hard to decide what the real work of art is here,” she says before she can stop herself, intending to break the ice with the comment.

“You did _not_ just say that,” Cat doesn’t turn around but she does lower the brush in her hand so the shaking of her shoulders doesn’t ruin her painting as she chuckles. So at least that worked.

“I’m afraid I did.” Kara feels brave again, encouraged by the answer, edging a little bit closer. “Mean it too.”

“Brazen,” comes the reply as Cat finally turns, eyes catching Kara’s, and for the first time she’s not even bothering to hide anything. “I like that colour on you.”

“And I like _you_ ,” Kara can’t resist stepping all the way into Cat’s space, wiping the three different shades of blue paint from her chin, then touching her cheek and effectively smudging that too in the process. Neither of them seems to care.

“Mm,” Cat hums, leaning into the touch. “Well, then you won’t mind that I took the liberty of putting my number in here,” she says, reaching into her pocket and giving Kara her phone back, her touch deliberately lingering.

“No, I don’t” Kara whispers, leaning closer.

“Kara, wait…” Cat starts weakly, “are you sure this is what you -“

Kara cuts her off with a kiss that leaves no question about the object of her desire, and Cat seems to accept that and gives as good as she gets. In the end they’re both panting heavily, faces smudged with blue and smiles as wide as their faces allow.

Cat frowns when Kara suddenly takes a step back from her and narrows her eyes, as though she’s trying to make a decision.

“What is it darling?”

“Hm” Kara hums, having reached a conclusion. “I take it back. It’s definitely you, Cat.”

At the adorably confused expression on the woman’s face Kara can’t help herself anymore, face breaking out in the dopiest of grins.

“ _The work of art_ ,” she explains, catching Cat around the waist and bringing their faces close again.

All Cat manages to get out in response is a breathless “ _oh_ ” before Kara’s lips catch her own again in a searing kiss, then peppering her with affectionate pecks everywhere, showing her, in no uncertain terms, just how precious she _really_ is.


End file.
